Imperial Twilight

by Eric Thomson

  “A failing common among the self-righteous. Doesn’t the Lyonesse University’s Board of Trustees control who is named chancellor and aren’t the trustees appointed by Governor Yakin on the advice and recommendation of the Colonial Council? I don’t see how disgruntled professors can threaten her.”

  “And what happens when the lordlings weasel their way onto the board, thanks to back-scratching between Gus and our esteemed and rather Machiavellian speaker of the council? They replace Emma and allow the university to seize control of the knowledge vault project from those whom the dissident professors consider heretics.”

  Morane’s eyes took on a thoughtful expression.

  “Sister Gwenneth warned me early on about Hecht’s ambitious character, and since knowledge is power...” His voice trailed away.

  “What better way to deprive the Void and us of control over the vault than filling the Board of Trustees with those who owe Hecht a debt of gratitude. Remember, Elenia Yakin is no despot with unlimited powers. She’s the closest thing to an early empire constitutional monarch we have, and that means she only has the last word on matters of interstellar, star system, and defense policy. In everything else, the council can override her with a two-thirds majority vote, which I’m sure Hecht can cobble together at need.”

  “Let’s hope we’re a pair of pessimists merely borrowing trouble.”

  “Sure, but I’ll keep my power packs charged and my copper disks pure. You may wish to speak with Gwenneth and Emma.”

  “I’ll do so. And tell Matti to keep the informal intelligence service in high gear.”

  “Already done. In return, how about you give the support group a military police company, so my grunts aren’t stuck playing substitute cop with rules of engagement more suited to reiver raids?”

  “Are you ready to cough up a platoon or two of volunteers?”

  “I can’t refuse if I’m asking, right?” DeCarde jumped to her feet. “If there’s nothing else on your mind, a few administrative issues await me.”

  Morane returned DeCarde’s salute and watched her leave his office. Why did crass politics always intrude, even on work undeniably for the common good?

  Perhaps because the seven deadly sins were one of the universe’s few constants, afflicting humanity until it succumbed to entropy and vanished into the mists of time. And if that was the case, did the daunting task he’d put in motion, that of preserving the best his species could offer, even matter?

  — 25 —

  Yotai

  “Have you given any further thought about how we might ease you into the public consciousness as the reborn empire’s legitimate sovereign, my dear?” Grand Duke Devy Custis handed Marta a cup of tea before settling into a chair across from her. “Please let me know how you like this blend. It comes from the south slopes of the Gandamack Range. Have you ever been there? If not, perhaps I could take you. It is one of this planet’s most scenic regions.”

  She repressed a shudder of disgust at the man’s false bonhomie.

  “No. This is my first time on Yotai.”

  “Then we’ll plan a little tour in the next few weeks, shall we?” He took a sip of his tea and smiled. “Wonderful. I can easily see you decreeing this the new imperial blend, by appointment to her majesty, Empress Marta, first of her name.”

  She tasted the tea before giving Custis what she figured was a suitably regal nod, though she found his brew rather ordinary, perhaps even too tannic.

  “A thought worthy of contemplation, in time. I’m not yet Empress Marta, first or last of her name.”

  “Of course. What about my original question?”

  “Did I come up with fresh ideas of how you could crown me without giving rebellious star systems royal indigestion?”

  It was a matter she’d discussed with Heloise for appearances’ sake, conscious Custis’ intelligence people or at least their AIs were listening in. Marta had no intention of becoming Custis’ figurehead in what she knew would be a doomed attempt at rebooting the empire.

  “Indeed.”

  The insistent chime of an incoming communication saved Marta from answering. An irritated expression briefly creased Custis’ forehead as he waved his hand in a pattern signifying he accepted the link. Within seconds, Admiral Zahar’s foreshortened hologram appeared above the low table between them.

  “I trust this is important, Admiral. Lady Marta and I were about to discuss future constitutional arrangements.”

  “It could be, Your Grace. One of my intelligence teams may have found the trail of that mysterious battle group from the 19th Fleet which salvaged Tanith in the Parth system.”

  “The 197th, under a Captain Jonas Morane, if I recall?”

  “That would be the one. It passed through the Arietis system several months ago, not long after I withdrew our forces and just before your arrival here. According to my operatives, the 197th turned back a reiver wolf pack intent on raiding Arietis, then stuck around while its Marines, a battalion from the 21st Pathfinder Regiment, trained the local militia. They left in somewhat of a hurry to pursue the wolf pack when it returned and slipped down the Lyonesse wormhole cul-de-sac. Neither the reivers nor the 197th have been seen in the Arietis system since, though the few merchant vessels who ventured to Lyonesse afterward claim that system is now home to a handful of former imperial warships and ground units.”

  “So Elenia Yakin gained a two-ship navy and some Marines.”

  “Three ships. Besides the cruiser Vanquish and the tactical transport Narwhal, which carried Tanith, Morane also has a frigate by the name Myrtale. When the 197th passed through the Arietis system, a civilian ship called Dawn Trader accompanied it. According to Lloyd’s Register, Dawn Trader belongs to the Galactic Dawn Corporation, which we suspect is either owned by the Order of the Void or works for it.”

  Custis rubbed his chin as he pondered Zahar’s report.

  “Interesting.”

  “It gets even more so, sir. Although Morane probably destroyed the reiver wolf pack, a ship we believe was Dawn Trader emerged from the Lyonesse branch a week or so later. We’ve not yet been able to track it through Micarat or any of the sector’s traffic control nodes.”

  “Should I be worried about a naval force with unknown allegiance in our immediate neighborhood, Admiral? One which is friendly with the thrice-damned Order of the Void or seized Dawn Trader from the meddlers and is using it as what? A spy ship? A privateer? Or something worse?”

  “Compared to battle groups from Dendera’s 2nd Fleet probing the Coalsack Sector’s border systems? No. Not in the slightest.”

  “How did this information reach you, Admiral?” Marta asked. “I thought your forces removed the Arietis subspace relay when they withdrew.”

  “I deployed scout ships to keep an eye on the wormhole junctions we abandoned, Milady, both to listen for reports from intelligence teams traveling aboard civilian ships and to warn us of incoming threats.”

  “Has one of your scouts been watching Mykonos since you withdrew the naval units stationed there?”

  A guarded expression appeared on Zahar’s holographic face.

  “On and off, Milady. Why do you ask?”

  “I’d like to know what happened after Dendera’s forces arrived, yet I can’t find anything in the 16th Fleet’s operations log. After all, Mykonos was my home for several years.”

  Custis couldn’t quite restrain a frown.

  “You’ve been delving into naval affairs, my dear? Best we leave such things to the admiral and his people, don’t you think?”

  She turned eyes colder than the depths of space on him.

  “As sovereign, I’m also the commander-in-chief of our armed services, Devy. Or will be once we set a date for my ascension to the imperial throne. I shall, therefore, ask Admiral Zahar any question I please and expect straightforward answers.”

  He raised his hands in surrender.

  “Certainly.”

  “A
dmiral?”

  Zahar’s hologram sketched a slight bow.

  “Yes, Milady. From what we pieced together, someone eliminated Jorge Danton and his government, then attempted to surrender. Dendera’s forces nonetheless wrecked the orbitals, then bombarded the surface, destroying spaceports, ground control nodes and anything else that might enable space travel. In effect, the planet is now back at a pre-diaspora level of technology. We assume that if Danton’s replacement hadn’t surrendered, the imperial forces would have bombarded population centers as well, reducing the survivors to something like the Stone Age.”

  Marta nodded, stomach roiling with an unexpected surge of acid at Dendera’s casual cruelty, and at what it meant for those she and Heloise had left behind because no one knew why Danton wanted her. If she’d known it was to give Custis’ scheme a veil of legitimacy, she’d have taken the children with her.

  “Not quite Carthago delenda est, but the spirit is similar.” Her inner scholar, analytical to a fault, warred with deep disgust at the military leaders carrying out their psychopathic ruler’s decrees. “Take away a rebellious star system’s capacity for further warfare if it surrenders, and salt the earth if it resists. Then, once you’ve created a wasteland, raise the imperial banner and call it peace. After a suitable interval, let the grandchildren of the survivors rejoin humanity’s interstellar civilization.”

  “That’s what my analysts said, Milady,” Zahar replied, “but not in such eloquent terms.”

  Custis nodded with more enthusiasm than her words merited.

  “This is why we must create a new empire, Marta, to keep other star systems from suffering Mykonos’ fate. And if we can’t prevent the destruction of their infrastructure, we will help them rebuild much faster than they ever could on their own or under Wyvern’s thumb.”

  A sarcastic smile twisted her lips.

  “What you, Dendera, and everyone else seems to forget is the fact we’re not in a closed environment, with only pro- and anti-Wyvern factions. The rest of the bloody universe gets a vote, and after our species dominated this part of the galaxy for over a thousand years, it will vote to feed on the empire’s carcass. There won’t be anything left for Dendera or her heirs to reclaim.

  “We, here in the Coalsack, might hold on to a rump state which in time could venture forth to sow the seeds of revival. But for those planets laid waste by Dendera’s admirals, the worst is yet to come. The millions who’ve died so far will become countless billions, especially if no human star system keeps the capacity for interstellar travel and we enter an era of barbarism capable of completely erasing civilization as we know it.”

  Both Custis and Zahar stared at Marta, astonished by the anger and passion behind her words. Neither of them knew her vehemence stemmed mainly from the deep-seated terror the orbital bombardment killed Sigrid, Stefan, and their caretakers. And yet a tiny and to her logical self, irrational spark of awareness almost smothered by fear whispered they still lived.

  “Surely it won’t be that bad, Milady,” Zahar ventured when she composed herself.

  “No, Admiral. It will be worse, much worse, now that Dendera has chosen a scorched star system policy instead of letting the empire peacefully fracture more or less along the stress lines her dynasty created. Better twenty-five quarreling sectors united here and there through shifting alliances than thousands of planets where time flows backward until the survivors of formerly advanced societies can sink no further.”

  An embarrassed silence greeted her final outburst. Then, Custis said, “I think we should resume our conversation at another time, my dear. Perhaps resting before tonight’s reception is advisable.” He turned his eyes on Zahar’s hologram. “Back to the 197th, Admiral. What else did your intelligence operatives tell you?”

  “They plan on taking the next available ship to Lyonesse, sir. Considering how long it took for their report to reach Yotai, the team might already be there.”

  “What is your interest in Lyonesse?”

  Custis seemed about to dismiss her question, but something in Marta’s eyes caused him to change course.

  “The prison ship my family and I were on, Tanith, also carried others condemned to exile on Parth by Dendera. Admiral Zahar’s forces rescued my family and me, but the prison service crew sabotaged Tanith’s antimatter fuel system, rendering it unable to travel FTL. Among the hundreds in stasis pods aboard, there are many I’d like to recover and bring here. Since it seems this Captain Jonas Morane piggybacked Tanith on his tactical transport and took it to Lyonesse, I must search for my lost companions there.”

  For reasons she couldn’t explain, Marta knew Custis wasn’t speaking the whole truth. There was more to his interest than just friends from the imperial court.

  “We hardly need more idle layabouts, Devy. I don’t want useless nobles cluttering up my capital, and neither do you. Let Lyonesse enjoy the privilege of high-born drones leeching off their society.” When he didn’t reply, she asked in a commanding tone honed by countless hours of training under Heloise’s strict tutelage, “What is your true interest in tracking down a lost prison ship?”

  “Dendera’s sister Corinne was aboard, hidden under the identity of a common criminal, but none of us knew her assumed name,” Custis replied, inexplicably unable to keep from telling Marta the truth.

  “Is it because she was your first choice as a puppet ruler, or are you afraid she might become someone else’s puppet, one with a more immediate claim to the imperial throne reborn in exile?” Marta studied Custis for a few seconds before allowing herself a cold smile.

  “Both, am I correct? Initially your first choice but now a potentially dangerous competitor to your current candidate, as in what if Corinne establishes a competing empire? How soon will we hear news from the operatives heading to Lyonesse, Admiral?”

  “It could be weeks or even months, Milady. Regular traffic between star systems we don’t directly control has all but ceased, and Lyonesse is five wormhole transits past Micarat, our last defended outpost on that part of the network.”

  Marta rose to her feet.

  “Please keep me appraised. In the meantime, I will take your advice, Devy, and rest before tonight’s dreary business.”

  A vaguely annoyed expression crossed Custis’ face.

  “You may consider hosting provincial nobility a dreary affair, but such receptions are part and parcel of our strategy to legitimize you taking the imperial crown.”

  “Indeed. And I will play my part to perfection, have no fear.”

  With that, Marta turned her back on Custis and his military commander, leaving them to contemplate her assessment of their precarious situation. The urge to tell Sister Heloise of an Order of the Void starship by the name Dawn Trader, now on the loose somewhere in the Coalsack Sector or perhaps even beyond, had become overwhelming.

  — 26 —

  Lyonesse

  “Another new arrival at the wormhole terminus, Centurion. Freighter by the name Avadora, ten crew under a Captain Makeda Krengel,” Petty Officer Harkness announced, raising his hand to attract the attention of the operations center’s duty officer, Eve Haller. “Condor confirms she’s a merchantman, lightly armed with no indications she might be a reiver in disguise. Captain Krengel advised Condor he carries two hundred and sixty-four migrants from Arietis.”

  Condor, the Lyonesse Navy’s fourth and newest ship was little more than an ancient, sloop-sized freighter impounded by the government a few weeks earlier and fitted with naval-grade improvements culled from the Lannion Base supply depot. Its former captain, a shifty-eyed Peralkan, figured it would be an excellent idea to cheat his way out of paying for the outbound cargo he’d taken aboard. Instead of lifting off on schedule, he’d found himself on a prison farm for his pains.

  Now crewed by former Imperial Navy personnel under one of Vanquish’s lieutenants, the sloop was taking her turn as guard ship at the wormhole terminus, to screen incomers. Though few civilian vesse
ls made their way down the Lyonesse cul-de-sac nowadays, those who showed up invariably carried migrants with enough wealth to pay the extortionate fees demanded by greedy captains.

  Since the 197th Battle Group’s arrival in the Lyonesse system, word had filtered back to Arietis and other places abandoned by the 16th Fleet that the little known planet no one cared about while the empire still owned the Coalsack Sector was a safe harbor. If you could reach it.

  And though the trickle of migrants remained small enough to present few problems on what was still a mostly virgin world, many on Lyonesse, Morane among them, worried they might admit settlers who could present a danger, perhaps not now, but at a later juncture.

  “Warn the Lannion harbormaster, PO,” she replied, referring to the man responsible for Lyonesse’s main civilian spaceport. “He can let Social Services know a fresh batch of customers is on the way. Once we have the ETA, activate the rapid reaction squadron so it can greet Avadora upon landing, in case the people aboard don’t come from frightened masses yearning to breathe free.”

  Harkness gave her a skeptical glance.

  “Two hundred and sixty-four bodies crammed into a tramp freighter doesn’t make for much of a raiding party, sir, unless they didn’t get the message this place has more bite than bark.”

  “Agreed, but why take chances?”

  “True.”

  Haller typed out a brief log entry, then routed it up the chain of command with the tag important, but not urgent. Admiral Morane and Colonel DeCarde want to hear about anything unusual in what they now considered their star system, and a new arrival, even if it was peaceful, qualified.

  Then, she transmitted the data on Avadora to Vanquish, currently in orbit, though she figured the cruiser’s communications chief would have intercepted Condor’s report and warned Captain Mikkel by now. No doubt she would send one of her other ships to intercept Avadora at the hyperlimit and confirm the freighter’s peaceful intent.